Page 70 of Asystole

Logan stops to look at me, his brow furrowed.

“You what?”

“We had talked about maybe finding a bigger space, right?” I ask, confused about why he’s confused.

“Oh. You went looking for a place for us together?” he says.

“Dude, we’re roommates. The whole point of a bigger place is because there are two of us,” I point out.

“Right,” he says in a tone that leaves me unable to read his thoughts.

As we walk back toward the aviation locker room, I spill the details about the amenities like the pool, the gated and heated garage, how parking is included, and that the best part is it will allow me some autonomy from my dad.

The more I talk, the more certain I am that this is a good idea.

Plus, a small part of me likes the idea of owning property with Logan. It kind of ensures that we have to stay friends and be in each other’s lives, and that brings me an incredible amount of comfort right now.

After the last several weeks of barely communicating, I’ve realized I’ve come to really count on Logan’s presence in my life, and his absence is detrimental to my well-being.

Before he can respond, my freaking pager goes off.

“Shit. I gotta go, but let’s talk soon, okay?” I ask.

Logan nods.

“Yeah.”

Looking at him one last time, the electricity between us having calmed down a fraction since I began talking about the townhouses, I pull him to me for a hug before I can overthink it.

“I’m really glad you didn’t crash.”

His arms wrap around my waist as he buries his face in my neck.

“Me too.”

“I’ve also really missed this. Can we catch up on cuddles once your on-week is over?” I ask, suddenly feeling a little needy.

Logan groans and moves out of my embrace.

“Maybe. But we’re gonna need to have a long conversation first.”

I nod enthusiastically.

“I can do that.”

The wind refuses to let up, and I swear it’s like the sun will never shine again. A mix of snow and ice swirls beyond the glass, giving my reflection a ghostly appearance. I’m waiting with bated breath for the inbound flight.

Six of us stand at the ready to play the hand of God and attempt to draw this patient back from the brink of death. My colleagues’ minds are focused on the patient; mine is focused on the pilot.

The heavy chopper sways from side to side in the wind. Once, twice, it looks like the pilot is going to lose control, but he holds on.

Until a gust of wintry wind whips between the buildings, pushing the chopper sideways unexpectedly. We all watch in horror as the tail clips the power line.

No.

NO!

The nose of the chopper dips, and its body sways before ultimately losing the fight. The rotor blades get tangled in the swinging line until the line snaps, sending a shower of sparks to shed light on my worst nightmare.